


three words

by girlsarewolves



Category: Skinwalkers (2006)
Genre: F/M, but then she has good reason after the reveal, canon - script, instead of depending on each other they lash out, neither one can stand to be open and vulnerable and for some reason I keep writing about it, these two and their refusal to talk things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are plenty of ways to communicate; wolves and people both have various means. Sometimes it's the simplest way that's needed, and sometimes it's the simplest way that's hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three words

**Author's Note:**

> How many times can I write about the revelation and the fallout? Apparently a few more times, at least. Not movie canon compliant, really, considering this revolves around dialogue that didn't make it and alludes to Caleb's original backstory where he left to infiltrate but instead joined the Naturalists.

* * *

_How much do you love me?_  
  
 _Everything else burns._

* * *

She stares at the crying woman and the sickly boy that could end them all.  
  
Studies the bawling female, the dark hair, dark eyes, similar height, similar build.  
  
She feels less like a person and more like an imitation.  
  
Studies the boy, the curly black hair and sweet, brown eyes and notices the familiar shape of his chin and his mouth, the similar frame of his face.  
  
Sees the echoes of the one who's supposed to be hers.  
  
When it all comes out it's like cold water weighing her down and drowning her.  
  
When it all comes out she's already figured it out, she's got two eyes that work just fine.  
  
Grenier is dead and that woman from the town - his mother _his mother **his mother**_ \- is dead and another of the humanists lies dead on the steps.  
  
And that boy - his son _his son **his son**_ \- is alive and that woman - his wife _his wife **his wife**_ \- is alive and that alpha is his brother and they're gone, gone, getting away.  
And they have the girl - his niece _his niece **his niece**_ \- and Sonja wants to rip her apart and pretend it's the human who looks too much like her.  
  
But the girl is blonde and pale and young and smells a little bit like him - her alpha, _her savior, **her lover**_ \- and everything is wrong.  
  
It isn't supposed to be like this.  
  
None of this was supposed to happen.  
  
They should be free, they should be alive, they should be winning. They should be reveling in the spoils of war, fighting Varek's good fight.  
  
Sonja wishes she had some matches and gasoline, cause she'd like the set the whole fucking world on fire for all it keeps trying to deny her.  
  
She is his.  
  
 _His._  
  
He was supposed to be _hers_.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
He'd always smiled and they'd fucked and they'd kissed and they'd hunted and shared their kills and eaten each others' discarded flesh after the change.  
  
 _His._  
  
Always his. Everything has always been his.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
 _I need you._  
  
She doesn't want to be needed or wanted or lusted after.  
  
She's been those things. She knows what it's like to be an empty, hollow possession. She knows what it's like to be used and discarded, and she wonders - does his wife feel the same?  
  
Did he love her, or did he only need her for a time?  
  
Did he walk away when he found her wanting?  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
 _I need you. Now more than ever._  
  
But what about after it's all over? When it's all done will he still need her? Or will he walk away?  
  
Inside she feels hollow in a way she's never felt before, and she hates the hole in her womb because that's not her.  
  
But instinct tells her she's failed him.  
  
And instinct says the child has to die.  
  
It's not just survival calling for his blood now; it's not just preservation driving her, gnawing away at her nerves, screaming inside because every second that kid lives is another second where her life - her status, _her rank, **her existence**_ \- is at risk.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
He only ever smiled.

* * *

_Everything else burns._  
  
 _How much do you love me?_

* * *

He stares at the grown woman ghost of the child he once knew.  
  
He feels their eyes on him, feels their hard, hungry gazes and all the unspoken questions filling up the air he keeps steadily breathing in and letting out.  
  
He can't look at them, can't look at _her_.  
  
He is Alpha but now he feels weak - and if they see it, they will jump. That is their nature, the nature he wants so desperately to preserve.  
  
The nature he so desperately tried to fight.  
  
But he gave in; he gave in and caved and turned his back on that life because it was easy, and maybe Caleb has always been weak.  
  
She is crackling with energy, and the air becomes electric, acidic as her hatred fills his nostrils with every inhale.  
  
 _Who were they?_  
  
 _Who were you?_  
  
 _Who is this one?_  
  
 ** _Who are you?_**  
  
And he has no answers he can give that will ever be enough. He'd wanted to forget. He'd wanted to believe everything would work out.  
  
He was a fool to never recall the name and face of the woman he'd bound to himself and his family; when the blood moon came, his mind never once spared her a thought - until she was staring him down.  
  
Even when he saw Mother...  
  
Even when he caught Katherine...  
  
And she is staring, glaring, pleading.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
 _I need you._  
  
Why could she never be satisfied? Three words, it all evened out even if the middle one wasn't quite what she was waiting - craving - for.  
  
He wants to reach out to her - but that would be weak.  
  
He wants to tell her it doesn't matter - but that wouldn't make everything better.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
 _I need you. Now, more than ever._  
  
Three words. One difference - and now it must make all the difference to her.  
  
He knows they want blood - the one in his arms won't do, won't be enough, and he can think of better uses for her. He tells himself it's not to spare her; he tells himself she deserves to be set free.  
  
He tells himself it's not so he doesn't have to bloody his hands now that it's his own blood.  
  
There's plenty of that dripping from his fingertips already.  
  
But Sonja is staring at him, waiting, _wanting, **needing**_.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
He'd only ever smiled.  
  
 _I need you._  
  
He'd been wrong then - he needs her now, _now, **now**_ more than then. But he can't say it. Can't be weak. Can't show them how much everything is slipping. He needs her, and he knows that he only has a short window left to keep her, so save her, to save himself and the rest of his kind.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_  
  
 _Everything else burns._  
  
He'd turned her and he'd fucked her and hunted and killed with her and fed on her ferocity and vibrancy until he became addicted, couldn't get by without it.  
  
Without _her_.  
  
 _Everything else burns._  
  
Three words. All wrong, because how was she supposed to know they had a hidden meaning?  
  
 _I need you._  
  
He loves her the way a wolf loves the shadows in the forest and the thrill of the hunt and the security in the first taste of meat. He loves her and needs her and like an angry coward trying to fake bravery and strength he doesn't tell her that the other one was an ends to a long abandoned means.  
  
 _Everything else burns._  
  
He'd only ever smiled.  
  
 _How much do you love me?_

* * *

In the end he watches her burn, and all those smiles and wrong three words were 'I love yous', but she'll never know.


End file.
